“I have, last night. I take it they have arrived.”
“They have. Shall I house and feed them in the cottage, as before?” This was not the first time this had happened.
“Please do, and give them every cooperation.”
“Of course, sir.” The major rang off.
“Are we surrounded?” Meg asked.
“We are.”
“Will that prevent me from taking a walk around the grounds?”
“When I said last night that we would be prisoners in the house for a time, I meant exactly that. However, you may explore the interiors of the house, which will take you much of the day.”
“Oh, all right,” she said.
The phone rang. “Yes?” Stone said.
A young man’s voice said, “I have Dame Felicity Devonshire for you. Will you accept the call?”
“Certainly,” Stone said.
There was a click. “Stone, is that you?”
“It is. The word spreads quickly.”
“My spies are everywhere,” she said. “I thought we might have dinner tonight, if you and your lady friend are available.”
“How do you know that I am in the company of a lady?”
“Oh, really, Stone!”
“Come to us at six-thirty,” he said.
“That will work very nicely. I’m leaving the office a little early today. See you then.” She hung up.
“I think I can guess who that was,” Meg said.
“Good guess. She’ll arrive at six-thirty, dressed to kill. Never mind that it’s just the three of us.”
“I’ll do my best to rise to the occasion. Now,” she said, leaping from the bed, “I’m going to put on my country tweeds and explore the innards of the house.”
“How did you know to bring country tweeds?”
“A wild guess,” she replied, and disappeared into her dressing room.
Stone read the Times fairly thoroughly, then gave up immediately on the crossword. He had never been any good at British crosswords; they were all riddles.
* * *
—
MEG WAS BACK at noon, while Stone was still dressing. “Wasn’t I supposed to remind you of something?” she said.
“Yes, you were supposed to remind me to remind you to check on the status of your patent applications.”
She looked at her watch. “Too early in California. I’ll do it later.”
“Remind me to remind you.”
* * *
—
THEY LUNCHED in the small dining room, overlooking the rear gardens of the house.
“Lord,” Meg said, gazing at the riot of color. “What does it take to run a place like this?”
“About fifteen people,” Stone said, “and a bottomless bank account.”
“What do fifteen people do?”
“Well, there’s Major Bugg and his assistant, the cook and her assistant, four housemaids, a butler, and two of what used to be called ‘footmen’ but now prefer ‘assistant butler.’ On the outside a groom and his assistant, a gardener and his assistant, and six groundsmen, one of whom doubles as an aircraft handler and another as a dockmaster.”
“That presumes a dock.”
“Right over that way”—he pointed—“on the Beaulieu River.”
“That comes to twenty-one,” she said.
“Good God, as many as that?”
“You thought there were only fifteen.”
“I would rather go on thinking that,” Stone said. “Excuse me, I should check in with Joan.” He called the New York house.
“Good morning, the Barrington Practice.”
“Good morning. Is everything and everyone safe and sound?”
“Yes, but Bob is a little put out that you didn’t take him with you.”
“I didn’t know, on short notice, whether the legal requirements for his entering Britain had been accomplished. Will you check into that?”
“Certainly.”
“Anything at all odd going on?”
“Do you mean the two men lurking outside in the street and the phone calls from men who, when told you are unavailable, decline to identify themselves?”
“I believe I do.”
“Do you want me to shoot anybody?”
“Not until their hands are at your bodice. What you could do, though, is to tell Fred to take the car out once or twice a day, so they’ll think I’m in it. And tell him to watch his ass, in case they believe that too strongly and take a shot at him.”
“I will do so.”
“Call me if there are developments.”
“Of course.” They both hung up.
“Is all well?” Meg asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Stone replied.
50
Stone and Meg had just finished lunch when the butler came into the room. “Excuse me, Mr. Barrington,” he said, “but one of the security detail would like to speak with you at the front door.”
“Please bring him in here,” Stone replied.
A man Stone recognized came into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington.”
“It’s Carl Atkins, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. I have some rather unwelcome news for you, I’m afraid.”
“And what is that?”
“The gentleman you’re concerned about, Mr. Owaki?”
“Yes?”
“I’m very much afraid that he’s a guest next door.”
Stone turned to Meg. “Next door means a larger country house—much larger than this one—that the Arrington Group turned into a country hotel.”
“And it’s next door?”
“Yes.”
“In the circumstances,” Atkins said, “we feel strongly that you and Ms. Harmon should not appear outdoors on the front side of the house, as Mr. Owaki will certainly have his own security, and you might be spotted.”
“How about the back side of the house?” Stone asked.
“That should be quite safe.”
“Thank you, Carl, we’ll heed your warning.”
“Have a good afternoon, sir.” Atkins departed.
“I suppose I was wrong about Owaki being five miles away,” Stone said. “It’s more like a quarter of a mile.”
“Swell,” Meg said.
“Would you like a walk in the garden? That’s at the rear of the house.” He pointed.
“Very much,” she said.
They left the house through the rear entrance and walked into the garden, while Meg explained the species to Stone, who had no idea. Then they walked into the stable yard and had a look at the four horses there.
“May we ride?” Meg asked.
“Do you ride?”
“When I’m permitted to.”
“I’m afraid our only trail passes within a few yards of the house next door.”
“I should have known. In that case, I think I’ll spend the afternoon in your library with a good book.”
“What a good idea. Remember, drinks at six-thirty.”
“I’ll be there, suitably attired.”
Stone was in the library at six, dressed in a blue suit and a tie, remembering that Dame Felicity was often early. At six-twenty, the butler announced her, and as soon as the door closed behind her she enveloped Stone in a hug and allowed herself to be kissed on both cheeks.
“I won’t ask how you are,” Stone said, “because it’s perfectly obvious.”
“You, too, darling,” she said. She was dressed in a clinging cocktail dress of green, which set off her red hair.
“What would you like to drink?”
“A martini, please.”
Stone went to the paneled bar and mixed the drink, then poured himself a bourbon. They settled into chairs beside the fireplace.
“I noted the presence of security at the dock and at the house,” Felicity said. “May I know why?”
“You may,” Stone said. He took five minutes to apprise her of the situation.
“Owaki is a nasty piece of work,” Felicity said, “in spite of his oleaginous charm. I knew he was in the country, of course, and now I know why.”
“I don’t think he came in search of us.”
“No, it’s his factory, and now I know why he bought it.”
“I don’t suppose you could find an excuse to have him thrown out of the country,” Stone said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied.
Meg was ushered in by the butler, and Stone introduced her to Felicity, who looked her up and down appraisingly. She was wearing a red sheath dress, and Felicity obviously approved. He made Meg a martini and Felicity a second one, then they gathered at the fireplace.
“I understand you are in the intelligence trade,” Meg said to her.
“I’m very much afraid that I can neither affirm nor deny that,” Felicity replied. “I understand that you are receiving the attention of nefarious characters.”